


Desperation

by UNICORNZWAG



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Buried Alive, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UNICORNZWAG/pseuds/UNICORNZWAG
Summary: Ryan is stuck and desperate. Sometimes there is no way to fight.





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> Hey just a warning here with   
> SPOILERS   
> if you care about that  
> I didn't tag major character death cause it's really temporary and you don't find out about it until after the fact.

Ryan was sure his eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything at all.

 

It was pitch dark and desolate. He could feel air rush past his lips as he gasped, panic beginning to tighten his chest. The air tasted stale and felt thin in his mouth and lungs. 

 

He tried to bring up his arms but they were trapped against his body, restrained. 

 

The only sounds he could hear were his own heartbeat, rapidly increasing, and his ragged, desperate breaths. 

 

When he moved to sit up his head banged into a surface just above him. He only had movement of a few inches on each side of his body. Pain erupted in his chest and he felt grains of dirt fall onto his face and into his hair. 

 

Ryan froze with terror.

 

He was underground.

 

He had been buried alive. 

 

He was trapped. 

 

His breathing picked up and his heart went crazy. His stomach was tied in knots and he panicked. 

 

He tried to focus.

 

He needed to preserve oxygen.

 

He took one more deep breath to calm his mind down.

  
His heart was still beating out of his chest.

 

He could smell the coppery blood that clung to his hair and he could feel it pooling below his head. He wanted to throw up. 

 

At this point, Ryan closed his eyes, it was pointless to have them open as it was. He counted, taking a shallow breath every fifteen seconds. 

 

He had hope that the crew would come for him. They always did whenever one of them was in trouble. If someone had been kidnapped, they were found and brought home. Anyone who had known about their disappearance or who had touched them at all was dismembered and left as a warning… You don't fuck with the Fake AH Crew… ever. 

 

He knew he was below dirt because if he kicked or otherwise rocked the coffin in which he was restrained, more and more earthy smelling particles rained around him. 

 

He tried to break his way out a few times, kicking or punching at the tough wood, but it was unforgiving. 

 

His hands were cuffed together on his chest. He could feel the cold of the cuffs tearing at his skin and hear the jingle of the chain if he moved them. 

 

He knew any more attempts at escape would only lose his precious oxygen even faster, so he resigned himself to his rationing air.

 

Panic was still sitting heavily in a bubble in his chest. He pulled on his Vagabond persona to keep some semblance of calm. 

 

Losing focus would only bring a quicker demise and this grave would serve its purpose. 

 

Ryan thought back to when he had been taken a few days back. The usual interrogation methods, nothing he couldn’t handle. 

 

He took a few hits, got scraped up, broken ribs and burns painting his torso black, blue, and red, but that was fine. 

 

That was what he was used to. Apparently they had gotten fed up with his silence and wanted him gone. He remembered the blow to the head that had knocked him out. 

 

Each breath hurt, his chest throbbing not only at the injuries, but the air was starting to lack the oxygen that Ryan desperately needed. 

 

His mind wandered as he tried to stay awake. 

 

Last week was Lil’ J’s birthday. 

 

The crew had celebrated with a surprise party, a night with everyone he loved. 

 

It had been his job, along with Gavin and Michael, to keep Jeremy out of the house all day. They had dragged him along on a small time robbery, the clerk screaming in terror when Gav had pulled his gaudy golden gun on the poor guy. 

 

His brains splattered the display when they were done. The adrenaline bringing a grin to all of their faces as they stuffed far too many people into his modded Kuruma and took off. 

  
He thought of the joy on Michael’s face as the grinning red-head had spun in his seat with a rocket launcher, cop cars going up in a fiery blaze that shone in the eyes of all the lads, the cries of joy that couldn’t even be drowned out by the explosion. 

 

They had lost their wanted level and headed to the pier to spend their take from the robbery. Gavin had demanded that Ryan win him the biggest stuffed animal out of any of the stands. 

 

Of course, Ryan couldn’t refuse. When the man running the stand kicked the target out of the way of Ryan’s perfect bullseye, there was a real gun pointed at the man’s head… needless to say all three of the lads ended up with as many stuffed animals as their hearts desired. 

 

He thinks about how they squished four people into one farris wheel box. Jeremy refusing to look down and squeaking whenever the box moved at all. 

 

He thinks about the different kinds of sounds Jeremy made with Michael on his knees between his legs. 

 

Ryan’s mind started to get fuzzy around the edges. His conservation of air was aborted and he had begun gasping, trying to pull oxygen from where it was becoming nonexistent. 

 

He was determined not to let fear be the last thing he felt.

 

He thought back to that night. They had walked into the apartment with the smell of Geoff’s amazing cooking in the air.

 

Every surface was covered in glitter and the entire penthouse was decorated. 

 

“Happy Birthday Lil’ J!” They had all called.

 

Jeremy’s blush paired with the bright smile that had graced his face were priceless. 

 

Ryan tried to focus on the faces in the memory. The narrative was fading just like his consciousness.

 

He could see Lindsay, beaming at him with a wink as the lads dropped their stuffy prizes to join everyone at the table. She looked radiant even with her hair pulled up into a bun and sweat on her brow from helping Geoff in the kitchen.

 

He could feel Jack’s arms wrap around his neck as she pecked him on the cheek. “Good job keeping them occupied, Ry. This night will be so special.”

 

He was unable to remember what happened later. Had he responded to her? Did they have steak or pork roast? What color was Jeremy’s hair?

 

He tried to remember, but he couldn’t.

 

He thought about how much Geoff’s tattoos intrigued him, tracing them in the dead of night when no one else was awake. They swirled throughout his dreams, patterning arms that he loved to pin down in bed, but also loved to be encircled within. 

 

Once again he could hear what he assumed to be his heartbeat. His lungs struggled and his body spasmed before the blackness around him closed in.

 

* * *

 

 

When Ryan opened his eyes, he thought he was dead. 

Everyone he loved, his family, was spread across the room and he was reclined on the couch. 

He saw Lindsay, sleeping on the other section of the L couch, face lined with worry even in sleep. 

Geoff was on the couch too. Ryan’s legs were pillowed on his lap. He was snoring lightly with his head resting on his hand. The tattoos that Ryan adored peeking out from a sweatshirt sleeve.  _ His _ sweatshirt sleeve. Ryan was going to want that sweatshirt back later. 

Jeremy was asleep on the floor in front of him, head slumped back, resting by Ryan’s torso. He would hurt his neck if he kept sleeping like that. 

Michael and Gav were tangled together on the arm chair to his left. Both of them had hair that looked like a rat’s nest. Gavin obviously hadn’t shaved in days. They looked like kids, though, who had fallen asleep at a slumber party. 

Ryan looked for Jack. His eyes caught hers and she gave a small smile. She had been sitting by the bar behind the couch on a stool. A glass of whiskey untouched behind her. 

She rose quickly and rushed over, a thousand questions tumbling from her lips. Ryan was still a little out of it and looked at her quizzically. 

She settled for sitting him up slightly and hugging him gently, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

By this time everyone else had awoken. 

Tears were shed and a Mario Kart tournament began at once to lighten the mood. 

Ryan learned that his crew had come for him and dug him up in the middle of the night. 

“Caleb doesn’t know how long you were gone, but by the time we got there, we couldn’t find a pulse,” Jack’s voice wavered. 

“They were able to get you back, though,” Jeremy’s statement filled with power and determination. 

“We brought hell to the motherfuckers who dared try to take you from us,” Michael had a fire in his eyes. 

Ryan smiled. It was a small smile, but probably the most important one he had ever had. It meant he was alive. 

It would take days for Ryan to stop taking huge gulps from the oxygen tank that had been brought to the penthouse for him, weeks for him to sleep in bed with all the others and not feel like he was trapped and unable to move, months for the bedroom lamp to be shut off at night to fend off the darkness, and Ryan would never stop appreciating and paying the utmost attention to every moment of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments and criticism greatly appreciated and encouraged.


End file.
